


Who's My Puppet-master

by ShardsOfColor



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Could be seen as romance, Episode: s01e09 Left Behind, F/M, Light Angst, Prompt Fill, Sorry this was REALLY late, up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 03:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShardsOfColor/pseuds/ShardsOfColor
Summary: The Legends have just boarded the Waverider after their trip to Nanda Parbat in the 1950s. Sara is confused about what to do, Leonard does his best to help.





	Who's My Puppet-master

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So this was a prompt given to me by @manticoregurl071134 in January, and I am so incredibly sorry about how late this is.   
> Prompt (summarized): Sara/Snart, “Left Behind” why did Sara leave her friends (Ray and Kendra), and rejoin the League. Also dive into how the show skipped over the trauma it must have caused her coming back to the Waverider.  
> Happy reading!

“Lance.” Leonard grunted, leaning on his recently murderous team mate. “Are we going to talk about your brainwashing? Recent battle against Kendra? The fact that you tried to  kill us all? You know I’m the last person to offer this, so if the answer is yes, then please,” they stumbled into the medbay, and he plopped onto a chair, “talk to someone other  than me.”

The assassin glared at him, still not speaking, and set his arm on the small table that Rip had set there previously. Then, she turned and briskly walked out of the room. Leonard  sighed, but then winced as a sharp tingling feeling filled his stump of a hand. Gideon was somehow, miraculously, regrowing his hand. Layering bones, to arteries, to flesh, to  finally skin. The thief watched as red and blue criss crossed, forming an elaborate maze of blood. The flesh was thick, and had the consistency of a jello, but with too little water  put into the mix. It made a suctioning sound as it connected to the bones and arteries, poking through places that Leonard believed it had no right to be, but somehow fit.  Lastly, the skin was woven, and draped over the nearly complete limb, before being stretched tightly, defining the boundaries of his seemingly, impossibly, new arm. This took  around an hour, and while Leonard was having his hand restored, the resident assassin was having some difficulty adjusting.

“Sara?” The blonde turned, finding herself face to face with Kendra. Her teammate. The woman she came so close to killing. However, Sara did not feel any remorse for her  actions. She was just confused. ‘ _ What side am I on?’ _ , a thought that has been floating through her head for the past two years resurfaced, bringing along emotion, something  she was not so fond of at the moment. “Sara?” Kendra repeated herself, concern etched into her face. “Are you all right?” This snapped the shorter woman out of her thoughts,  bringing her to face the task at hand. A conversation. All she had to do was say yes and move on, preferably without violence. Or did she want violence? 

“Kendra. Yes, I am fine thank you.” After stating a painful seven words, Sara turned on her heel, and continued on the familiar path to her room.The doors slid open without noise, something that was similar to the League, to her home. But was it her home? Where did she belong? Confused, Sara removed her dark, heavy clothing and changed into jeans and a light tee-shirt. She undid her braid, and brushed out her hair. Then, she looked in the mirror. She looked like Sara Lance, the girl in the white costume. The girl who pretended, day after day, to be normal, to be like _them_. Someone who could fall easily into a domestic lifestyle. Someone who didn’t wake up each morning with ten times the amount of blood on her hands than they will ever see. Someone, who was normal, average. The mirror shattered with a defining crash, and the assassin pulled her now bleeding hand away from the wreck that she had once again caused. ‘ _Why? Who am I? Where do I belong?_ ’ With the League, was the first answer that came to mind, but as she thought of her sister, her team, her friends -herself -she realized that she could never go back to the place that made her come so close to killing each one of them. And yet, she couldn’t have belonged there either. With Kendra and Raymond. The perfect couple, destined for doom. ‘ _Or were they?_ ’ 

She picked up the glass shards, throwing them briskly into the trashcan at her feet. “Knock knock Birdie.” And he was standing there. There in her doorway. Not afraid, not upset, not confused. And with a new hand, she noted. In it, he held a deck of cards, their favorite pastime. She blinked, and then pointedly straitened, as an invitation into her room. That’s not what Leonard saw though. He saw a small, frightened woman, who was so disoriented that she did not even realize how terrified she truly was. He froze, worrying that he upset her further.

“You can come in.”

So crisp, so formal, so unlike the reckless woman he remembers. Reckless was not the right word though. To be reckless is to be willing to do whatever it takes because you  don’t care, because you have nothing to live for. Sara did whatever it took, but not because she didn’t care, more because she did. Not anymore though. She just looked like a  puppet, her strings in the hands of her unknown master. As they sat together, and he dealt out the deck, Leonard decided. He decided that he would cut her stings. He decided  that whatever it took, he would bring back Sara Lance. He would bring back the one woman who could do anything. He would find her, and he would convince her, the terrified  soldier, the soulful canary, to cut her strings, to be herself.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Remember, constructive criticism is always welcome. I hope you enjoyed! Have a great day!


End file.
